


Back In '07...

by Chemical_X



Category: BoJack Horseman
Genre: Alcohol, Bathrooms, Drug Use, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Reader-Insert, Recreational Drug Use, if I need to tag this with something else let me know, uuhhhhhhhhhh Idk....
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-23 13:44:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17684606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chemical_X/pseuds/Chemical_X
Summary: At a Hollywoo industry party, you run into your old boss, and friend, Bojack Horseman. Instead of braving the tedious company of the party, you both decide to hotbox a bathroom. I wish I were joking.-----Admittedly, I haven't seen seasons 4 and 5, so I'm kinda going with the excuse that this was in like either season 1 or 2. Title refers to the fact that the Reader worked on The BoJack Horseman Show.





	Back In '07...

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I really, really, reaaaallllyyy like the idea of smoking weed in a bathroom. Got the idea actually from another fic (that I'm afraid I can't link back to), but I kinda tweaked the idea to make it more like what I'm looking for.
> 
> Also, this is unbeta'd and will probably not be finished. That being said, I don't mind hearing constructive criticism if there's something that needs to be changed (grammatical errors, phrasing issues, etc).
> 
> I tried to emulate how BoJack talks, but I'll admit, I think I wrote him with a better memory than what's been established in canon.  
> \-----  
> I do not own BoJack Horseman (the show or the character), and for legal purposes, I do not necessarily condone the use of drugs. Please get high responsibly.

Through circumstances unforeseen, you found yourself this evening at a swanky Hollywoo party for some film festival’s opening weekend. A friend had invited you on the off chance that you might find a new gig to become involved with, but you came to realize that your friend mostly invited you to make her look good. You were known around town by name as being one of the more inspired production designers in the industry, but few could recognise you by sight. Despite this fact, you still found a surprising amount of men there who were desperate to try and impress you. You knew you were pretty, but you had to blame it on the slinky sequined black dress you had dug out of your closet for this event.

Currently because of it, a fledgling film critic was trying to talk your ear off about some deep Scandinavian film you had never heard of. It wouldn’t be so bad if he hadn’t already gotten himself drunk that evening.

 

“-and so you see, the hidden, uuhh, allegory of mankind’s struggle to escape the psychological confines of-“

 

“Excuse me,” a new voice interjected.

 

You and the critic turned to see a tall, older horse-man wearing a well-fitting black tux and holding a filled flute glass in each hand. You could swear you knew the man, but weren’t quite sure.

 

“I think you’ve taken enough of her time. Give the other guys a chance to embarass themselves in front of her.”

 

The critic turned a sharp shade of purple-red in the face and proceeded to storm off towards the open bar.

 

“Sorry to cut in like that, but I could tell you were fed up with him. Drink?” The man extends one of his glasses to you while gently smiling.

 

“Thank you,” you say as you accept the drink. “If I had to hear one more word about ‘the tortured human psyche’…” With that you down the glass in one go.

 

“Well, cheers.” The horse-man does the same, letting out a deep breath after finishing his glass. “I don’t know if you remember me, I don’t know if I’d remember me either, but my associate at the time and I hired you for production design on a show we produced back in 2007.”

 

It suddenly struck you. “Oh my God, of course I remember you! BoJack Horseman!” You started beaming as your memories started flooding back. “Oh man, I loved working on that show. I was so sad when we got cancelled.”

 

“Thanks. I’m glad at least someone looks back on it fondly.”

 

“Of course, man. Y’know, that was the first major production I got to lead design on.”

 

“Jeez, that was a long time ago... How old were you even then?”

 

“I was..... 22. I’d just gotten off of this reaaally shoddy sci-fi pilot when you guys approached me... I think you were still trying to pretend Horsin’ Around didn’t happen,” you laughed out.

 

“Heh, yeah,” BoJack chuckles with you. “We had some good times on that set.”

 

“Yeah... Why’d we lose contact?” You couldn’t help but feel a tinge of regret as you remembered losing touch with the friends you had made after production ended. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk to them after production, just... No one else reached back out to you, either. Not even the one you’d thought you made the most impact on: BoJack himself.

 

He stands there for a minute, his face falling into melancholy as he ponders your question. “Honestly? I don’t know. I think at that point, I was too focused on the failure of the show. I put so much into that project, only for it all to be spat back at me in the end. It’s hard to come back from that.”

 

“I know what you mean…”

 

You both stood in silence. Whether it was awkward or not, you couldn’t say.

 

“God, I feel bad killing the vibe here. Let’s talk about something else,” you offer.

 

“Oh! Okay, sure.”

 

Before you could think of what to talk about, you remembered what you’d brought with you that night. “Hey, do you still smoke?”

 

“What, like cigarettes?”

 

“No, like before.”

 

It takes BoJack a few seconds for what you said to register before he baulks at you. “Are you telling me you want to smoke weed here? Right now?”

 

“Not _right_ -right here.” You look around the property: there weren’t any places to hide away on the back patio, but looking up at the house’s upstairs gave you an idea. “We could go see if there’s a spare bathroom somewhere.”

 

“So you _do_ want to smoke weed right now.”

 

“Sure, why not? Nothing else good is happening here. Hell, even the sparkling wine’s pretty bad,” you say as you throw your empty plastic glass into a nearby bush.

 

BoJack stares you down for a moment, obviously analyzing the situation. “Yeah, alright, you talked me into it.” He throws his glass in the same bush you did. “Lead the way,” he says gesturing ahead.

* * *

It took the two of you several minutes but you were finally able to find a quiet, somewhat cavernous fourth bathroom in the house to barricade yourselves into. Along the way, BoJack had swiped a bottle of whiskey to also pass the time.

 

“So what’re we working with tonight?” Bojack walks past you, farther into the bathroom. He sat down on edge of the bathtub, setting the whiskey beside him on the floor, while you cleared off a space for yourself on the counter.

 

He started to take off his jacket and tie, and roll up his shirt-sleeves as he continued: “A joint? Mini-rig? A bong?”

 

“Does it look like I have enough room for either a bong or a mini-rig in this tiny purse?” You looked up from digging through your bag on the counter to shoot him a cheeky look before continuing to dig. “Ah-hah!” You triumphantly pull out a medium-large-ish pipe along with a decently-sized plastic baggie full of ground weed, and proceed to start loading it.

 

“Oooh, fun. Haven’t done a pipe since that time I broke into Coachella.”

 

“Why would you ever want to purposefully break into Coachella?”

 

“Eh, it wasn’t my idea. I was just tagging along for the ride. You know how it goes.”

 

“Ah.” You finally looked up from your task to notice that BoJack had slightly opened a window and unbuttoned his shirt down to the middle of his chest. You’d kinda forgotten that you had a crush on him during production, but seeing him with his shirt open like that again brought back a flood of memories of the two of you smoking each other out; both of you just enjoying the other’s company. Numerous things to say popped into your head (several of them rather inappropriate), but you eventually settled for,“I forgot you liked to have a window open.”

 

“Is that going to be a problem?”

 

“No, I was just kinda hoping we could hotbox the room. I never did get to do that with you before production stopped.”

 

BoJack stares at you as a smile slowly starts forming on his face. “That’s right, huh? You wanted to convince me that smoking in a hotboxed room was the perfect way to smoke.”

 

“Actually, I said specifically a hotboxed bathroom is the perfect way to smoke.”

 

“Why the bathroom?”

 

“Well the big obvious reason is that there’s already a built-in fan to help get rid of the smoke when youre done, and even sometimes air-fresheners, but it’s mainly because it’s a small, intimate environment that can help you build closer relationships with the people you smoke with.”

 

BoJack continued to stare at you in silence. “That sounds like some of the most pretentious, avant-guarde, super-stoner bullshit I’ve ever heard,” he finally says with a slight laugh.

 

“Yeah, alright,” you laugh back at him. “Hand me that towel next to you.”

Confusion crosses his face before he looks over his shoulder to grab a long peach-pink towel off of one of the several towel racks.

 

“Catch,” he says before throwing you the towel.

You catch it one-handed, and stuff it into the crack under the door. You also make sure to lock the door as you stand back up.

 

“Here, you go first.” You offer him the pipe and a small pink lighter.

 

“Finally,” he replies as he gingerly takes both from you. He runs a hand through his bangs to slick them back before properly placing the paraphernallia to take a hit.

 

At first, you were considerate because he has larger lungs, but then it started bordering on outrageous how large of a hit he was taking.

 

“Oi, leave some for me, I don’t have an endless supply of green over here.”

 

He finally lowered the pipe, and continued to hold the hit in his lungs for a moment before breathing out a fairly large cloud of smoke. “Don’t worry, I’ve got some, myself.” He pulls a larger bag of weed out of his pants pocket and hands it to you. Your fingertips gently brush against his as you take it from him.

 

“That’s rich coming from the guy who was so apprehensive about this in the first place.”

 

“Oh no, I wasn’t apprehensive because of the drug use. I was apprehensive because the others downstairs are fun-sucking leeches that like to smoke all your weed while trying to get you to pitch into their kickstarter campaign.”

 

“Ah, makes sense. I’ve never known you to resist a good distraction.” You start to walk toward him, taking a seat next to him on the bathtub edge as you take the pipe and lighter away from him. You take your own hit, clearing out what was left in the bowl, before slowly exhaling.

 

A nice haze of smoke was starting to fill the room as you both just sat in silence. Eventually, BoJack picked up the bottle of whiskey and cracked it open.

 

“You want a slug?”

 

“I don’t know, do I want a small slimy creature that’s susceptible to salt?” You couldn’t help but tease the man as you took the opened bottle from him. You sip a little to test the flavor before knocking the bottle back and taking a few chugs.

 

“I take it it’s safe to drink?”

 

You hand the bottle back to him as you wipe your mouth off with your other hand. “I don’t know about that, but it at least tastes pretty good.”

 

“Heh, good to know.” He takes the bottle and chugs for at least two to three times longer than you did, draining about a quarter of the bottle in the process.

 

“I see now why you let me have the bottle first,” you can’t help but laugh out.

 

BoJack replaces the cap on the bottle and sets it down before responding, “Well, I knew if I didn’t, you’d give me more shit about how much I can take.”

 

“How much _can_ you take?” You ask in earnest.

 

“It depends on _what_ I’m taking, to be honest,” his voice now turning into a deep rumble. He leans his head back and closes his eyes, exposing more of his neck and upper chest. You can’t help but think about what he said in a sexual connotation.

 

Back in the day, you’d been warned before starting your job on his set that he was a womanizer, so you kinda expected him to always have someone hanging off his arm. Once you actually got to production though, you’d felt like the title of womanizer was greatly exaggerated. BoJack could be flirty, sure, but you never actually saw him bring anyone on-set. In fact, you seem to recall him spending most of his free time on-set with either Mr Cuddlywhiskers or you. The thought that BoJack was trying to woo you crosses your mind, but you quickly dispel it considering that nothing ever came of your…. friendship, with BoJack. He could pull almost anyone he wanted, really. Why would he have wanted to be specifically with you?

 

“Hey,” BoJack breaks the silence, causing you to suddenly turn and look at him. “We gonna hotbox this bathroom or what?”

 

You smile at him before jumping up off the bathtub edge, “Right.” Taking the pipe and lighter with you, you start to empty out and reload the bowl.

 

As you work on emptying out the ashes onto a tissue, you notice Bojack in the mirror standing up while taking the whiskey bottle with him. He walks towards you and proceeds to sit next to your workspace on the counter, now reopening the whiskey bottle.

 

“What do you think would’ve happened if we’d kept contact?”

 

You look up at BoJack to see him staring intently at you, something akin to hurt tinting his gaze. “Honestly, I don’t know…” You break eye-contact with him to continue with the pipe. “I definitely think we would’ve stayed friends, but…”

 

“But?”

 

You knew he was still looking at you, but you can’t find the nerve to back up at him. “I don’t know… What about you?”

 

“What about me what?”

 

“What do you think would’ve happened if we’d kept contact?” You risked a glance up at him, and could feel the weight of how sad he was.

 

“I’d hope that after becoming so close, we’d become even closer. But who knows, maybe we wouldn’t have. It wouldn’t have been the first time thats happened to me…”

 

You couldn’t help but abandon the pipe to place a hand on top of BoJack’s. “I really don’t think that would’ve happened,” you smiled up at him.

 

Taking your hand in his, he locks eyes with you again and lets out a deep sigh. “I really missed you, Y/N.”

 

Your smile falters as what he said registers in your brain. “I really missed you too, Bojack.”

 

He slides off the counter, still holding your hand, and presses you up against the counter edge. He leans in to kiss you as his arms find their way around your waist, and you do the same. It’s slow, and almost timid on his part, but very gentle. You eventually pull back from him to better look him in the face. “Can I ask you something?”

 

“Uh, I guess, sure?”

 

“Did you have feelings for me back during The BoJack Horseman Show?”

 

His grip on you tightens as he starts rubbing his hands on the small of your back. “What do _you_ think?”

 

You retraced your memories of spending time with him, and started piecing together the bigger picture. The frequent smoke-sessions despite not being a weed guy, the occasional shotguns you both claimed were done as friends- of course he’d had feelings for you!

 

You were starting to get mad at yourself for not realizing it sooner, when BoJack placed one of his hands on your cheek, snapping you out of your train of thought.

 

“It’s okay. I could’ve done more to make my feelings known, I was just afraid of scaring you off. Its always harder to let something amazing go when you know its your fault they’re leaving in the first place.”

 

You started to smile again as you leaned into his hand, placing your own on top of it. “I think it would be really difficult for you to scare me off, Bojack.”

 

He smiles back at you, but there’s still a look of concern hidden within. “You say that now, but you don’t know how bad I can get. The past few years haven’t exactly been kind to me.”

 

“I know…” You turn your face towards his hand and place a small peck on his palm. “But it’s okay.” You smile up at him as he smiles back down at you.

 

At that moment, however, a loud banging came on the door, followed by a slightly muffled “Hello? Anyone in there?”

 

You both looked at each other in fear, but neither one of you let the other go.

 

“Nevermind Harold, I’m sure there’s somewhere else we can go,” a second voice said on the other side of the door.

 

You couldn’t help but smile at the fact that you and BoJack weren’t the only ones looking for other entertainment at the party.

 

After a few moments of silence, you both let each other go and took a step back.

 

“So what now?”

 

“Well, I don’t know about you, but that stressed me out way more than I needed to be. You ready to take another hit?”

 

You beamed up at BoJack, “Sure”.


End file.
